Burn the Feeling
by Fanficworm
Summary: A one-shot that didn't come out too badly for a first try at the reverie sort of thing, I think. Tyrannoclaw never really worked very hard. Why is this? Is it because he's just lazy, or is it because he's given up on wrestling?


**Disclaimer**: Never was mine, still not mine, never will be mine. 

**Author's note**: This fanfic is inspired by Son Rhandi's _Nice Shootin' Sunshine_ and remembering seeing Tyrannoclaw and Checkmate as kids, back when Check would do sit-ups while Tyrannoclaw would just snooze. Sunshine looked so proud seeing Check being like that, but I've yet to see him show that much affection for Tyrannoclaw. How did the lizard king deal with all this favouritism, eh?

**Burn the Feeling**

_By Fanficworm_

He'd stopped training since that match with Terry "the Grand" Kenyon. He'd stopped bothering to wake up early, stopped doing his share of the chores, stopped coming to the practice matches, stopped listening to the voices of either concern or annoyance that belonged to his so-called "family". Basically, he stopped caring. True, there was a time when he _did_ care, just a _little_, about wrestling, about victory, about _praise_, but that time had passed, never to return. 

He snored, pretending to be asleep on the hard rocky floor of the place that was his and Checkmate's Spartan room, and trying to ignore Checkmate's usual two million sit-ups and usual mantra of "feel the burn, burn the feeling". Tyrannoclaw just didn't care anymore. There was nothing to care about anymore. _Nothing_. 

"Feel the burn, burn the feeling. Feel the burn, burn the feeling. Feel the burn, burn the feeling…" 

Wrestling? Forget it. With only scattered remains of the dMp, there seemed a _very_ strong chance the Muscle League would beat any remaining members, Mars being a good example. The only way Tyrannoclaw could survive out there in the wrestling world was to either become friends with the Muscle League somehow or join. As if _he_ would join the stupid League. There was a better chance of Master Sunshine getting remarried and living happily ever after. 

"Feel the burn, burn the feeling. Feel the burn, burn the feeling..." 

Victory? Fat chance. Now that everyone knew his weakness to everything cold, including cold _insults_ (of all things), he had no chance against his opponents. And there was no way he would wear a jacket and/or earplugs to his matches. Anything like a jacket would either overheat him or slow him down, and he needed hearing to beat his opponents, so earplugs were out. 

"Feel the burn, burn the feeling. Feel the burn…" 

As for praise? He tried desperately not to exclaim "ha!", in case Checkmate heard and got all concerned for his sanity. Tyrannoclaw gave up on receiving praise a _long_ time ago, so long, he'd actually forgotten _when_. 

"Burn the feeling. Feel the burn…" 

Inwardly, he smiled a bitter smile. Who could blame him? Master Sunshine _had_ forgone any and all forms of positive reinforcement before Tyrannoclaw could remember, after all. Tyrannoclaw was a fool to think that working hard enough would earn a few kind words from his trainer, even when he knew the man he was trying to impress didn't give a thought about him. 

"Burn the feeling…" 

Still pretending to snore away, he furtively eyed Checkmate, feeling himself become overwhelmed with resentment. Checkmate, the older one, the soft-skinned humanoid, was also Master Sunshine's prize protégé, and the obstacle preventing Tyrannoclaw from any sort of recognition from their master. Tyrannoclaw could see the look of fatherly pride shining through in Master Sunshine's eyes when he looked at Checkmate, the look that said that all his hopes and dreams were in that chess set wrestler, the look that was never shown to Tyrannoclaw. 

"Feel the burn…" 

No matter how hard Tyrannoclaw tried, he was always outshone by Checkmate. _Always_. Strength, speed, strategy, survival training, practice matches, signature moves… Everything Tyrannoclaw could do Checkmate _always_ did better. The better Checkmate did, the more acknowledgment he got from Master Sunshine. And the more Tyrannoclaw could see the pride in Master Sunshine's eyes. 

"Burn the feeling..." 

So he gave up on trying to win his master's attention, even more so after his match with that Texan kid. Praise was nothing to care about anymore, and that meant he didn't have to train as hard as he used to, that he didn't have to waste time and effort into something he couldn't have. It meant he could lie around and not do anything. Sleep usually followed lying around, and sleep was what he did best. No one could bother him while he slept, and he silently thanked whatever higher power there was up there that he inherited the genes of being hard to wake. 

The mantra stopped. And so did the sound of training. 

Tyrannoclaw stopped snoring for a second, wondering why Checkmate would stop his usual two million sit-ups after not even finishing his first five hundred thousand. He instantly caught himself, however, and closed his eyes, resuming his snoring with slightly more volume. 

"I know thou art pretending to sleep, Tyrannoclaw," Checkmate called, his tone of voice with a slight edge to it. "Thou hast been doing that frequently since our childhood, even _more_ so as of late." 

Tyrannoclaw answered with a snore in the hopes it would serve as a signal to the humanoid to back off. Still, Checkmate persisted. 

"Tyrannoclaw, speak. Thou art bothered by something." Another snore as an answer, followed by a sigh on Checkmate's part. "Tell me, if not as a sort of brother, then as whatever thou preferest." 

Pause. 

"I _will_ keep this in confidence, even from Master Sunshine, if that is what thou wishest of me. In very soothe. No one else need know." 

Silence. 

"Tyrannoclaw?" 

A snore, and then more silence. 

"Have it thy way. I was only trying to help thee." The grunts of sit-ups continued, and the mantra resumed. Good. He finally got the hint. 

Tyrannoclaw stopped snoring, seeing no point in it. Checkmate already _knew_ he was awake. Oh, he thought he was so smart, figuring out that Tyrannoclaw was pretending to sleep the whole time? Thought he was being the big brother figure from talking like that? Well, there was no way he was fooling anyone. If he talked to the Checkmate, the humanoid would tell Master Sunshine everything, and they were going to look down on Tyrannoclaw even more, just as they always did. 

Tyrannoclaw stopped his train of thought, reprimanding himself. Their opinion of him wasn't worth caring about. It was just like wrestling, victory and praise. None of them were worth caring about anymore. Caring was just a waste of time and effort. 

Besides, the feeling was mutual. He didn't care about them, they didn't care about him. He felt the emotional burn they gave him, and he smothered the burn until it was completely extinguished. The resemblance that thought bore to the Nightmare mantra was almost ironic. 

He felt the burn, and burned the feeling.


End file.
